


slow

by marchh



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining, So Sappy, Vague future fic, alternating pov, oblivious Oswald, they’re s o f t, tooth-rotting cavity-inducing sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:00:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23170582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marchh/pseuds/marchh
Summary: Oswald and Jim have been dating for a while now, except Oswald apparently didn’t get the memo
Relationships: Oswald Cobblepot/Jim Gordon
Comments: 27
Kudos: 101





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i told myself no wips til my long fic gets finished but im sure this one will be SHORT. so it's ok! really! *fingers crossed*

Oswald spotted him immediately. He couldn’t help the broad smile spreading across his own face as his eyes landed on Jim Gordon, sitting in the back window booth of the upscale cafe that had in recent - months, had it really been months? - become their regular spot. He’d been gazing out the window, looking criminally lovely under that angle of sunlight, until the moment Oswald set foot toward their table and he, as if by instinct, looked up and met Oswald’s smile with his own.

Oswald’s heart squeezed so hard it almost hurt, turning his smile into a nervous grimace as he hurried his pace.

Damn his character, damn his temperament, he would always be cursed to _want._

Nothing was _ever_ enough for Oswald, and this had many a time been his undoing. He knew this well, having experienced it time and again, yet could never help it, not even knowing that each fall hurt more than the last. 

“Jim, my dear friend,” Oswald said, taking a seat. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Oswald, hey,” Jim said, smile softening. “You didn’t; I got here a little early, so I ordered for us.”

As if on cue, one of the baristas came over with small pot of a fruit tea Oswald favored and set it down with a cup. They were regulars, meeting here once or twice a week, when they weren’t having lunch elsewhere, and, more recently, dinners at the homey traditional kitchen restaurant Oswald had opened, or one of the handful of places halfway between the Police Commissioner’s office and his own. 

“I thought we could talk about seating arrangements for the charity gala,” Jim said, as Oswald took a sip of the red tea and eyed Jim’s ever present pen and notepad. 

That’s right, he remembered, clenching his hands around the cup. 

This wasn’t a date. 

None of the meetings had been dates, they were meetings, because in the aftermath of their apocalyptic isolation, the city needed all the help it could get to rebuild, both physically, and in the minds of its citizens, as a home. It was an important task, but one that could easily become a stressful, thankless one, and Jim Gordon was just the kind of man to volunteer for such a thing, offering himself up as both sacrificial lamb and leader in order to get people to fall in line to their own benefit.

Oswald couldn’t let him do that. Though he was generally one to advocate that Gotham be let to Gotham’s own devices - outsiders scarcely understood how to work with her - this was a special case. They were owed the help they should have gotten over one year ago, and Oswald had taken the lead voicing this view, and vocally, making sure the federal government knew Gotham expected all debts paid, plus interest. His lobbying - if it could be called that - had won him considerable support within the city, making business for the first time in his life, dare he say it, _easy,_ and as such-

Well, 

As such, these days, he fancied himself a philanthropist. 

His cheeks warmed at the thought of whether Jim’s influence played any part. Oswald had always been the generous sort, but the label and his social standing nowadays was quite the 180 from what he had been before. And he was fairly certain it began not long after the two of them stood side by side to fight off Bane’s army, succeeding in turning the ranks and opening up lines of communication with the mainland to finally start reunification. Things happened swiftly once the army got their marching orders in, and in no time Jim was being promoted to Commissioner - Oswald remembers gazing proudly at Jim, with his stern and solemn expression - and accepted more than one award for his efforts to hold the city together when there was otherwise no hope.

And then their eyes had met, and Oswald sat stunned as he listened to a speech Jim had prepared, where he thanked the people of Gotham for not giving up hope, and his friends for sticking by him when he needed them the most. Later, after he’d come down from the podium, after he’d extricated himself from the throngs of congratulators, he’d even come over to check in on Oswald, and shake his hand. 

It had undoubtedly made Oswald want to drag the moment out, to do something, anything to keep that warm feeling going, to make Jim look at him like that again, and stay. He was left rooted in that spot as Jim’s attention was called elsewhere, mind reeling with plans he didn’t ask for. 

He left quickly after that, but the idea stuck and niggled at him from the very back of his mind. 

They crossed paths not two weeks later - literally, he saw Jim as they were crossing the street - and it was civil, a barely there smile and an almost wave. 

Three weeks later, when Oswald had purposely taken the long way to get where he was going and made sure to cross the same street at a time Jim might possibly be returning from his lunch break, they ran into each other again, this time going the same direction if only for half a block, and Jim had casually said they should get a drink some time, nearly shocking Oswald into walking into oncoming traffic. 

The drink turned out to be coffee, which was just as well, as Oswald intercepted Jim one morning when a drizzle turned into a downpour and Jim didn’t even argue before jumping into the back of Oswald’s car. They’d shared a laugh about Jim not having an umbrella, nor a car still, and the ride to Jim’s office had been all too brief. 

Not long after that, Oswald sat fingering a leaflet for a town hall meeting where he would be making an appearance, thinking whether he should hazard extending an invitation to Jim to such events. They were for the good of the city, and it was quite likely Jim would be planning on attending anyway, to keep apprised of such matters. And if not, surely someone should be keeping Jim apprised of these efforts, so as to avoid doubling work, and to make the best use of resources. 

A memory of another invitation, so long ago, settled like cold dread in the pit of his stomach. 

Oswald had set the leaflet back, chickening out, and instead made sure through assistants upon assistants that Jim was aware of his lobbying activities without having to attend any meetings he otherwise wasn’t planning to. 

Still, Oswald dreamed. The idea wouldn’t leave him, and a few weeks later - nearly four months ago to date, he’d gotten the idea in his head to throw a gala, which, on top of Gotham’s elite, outside investors would be in attendance. Just in time for the one year anniversary of Reunification. It was an ambitious event; they were seeking to raise funds to build several things across sectors, including a hospital, school, housing, and anything that could be made glamorous or sympathetic (as so much of the government grants were being - rightfully - diverted into necessities like utilities, which no one would ever create a charity for).

“I really want to say thank you again, Oswald, for taking the lead on this,” Jim said, setting down his pen after scribbling a few notes about the guest list. “It’s quite the Who’s Who you’ve got coming, and I know you’ve been working overtime on this for over a month, but it’s going to bring in so much of what’s still needed.”

“I know,” Oswald said, tone joking. “But we’re almost there - all I need now is a plus one.”

Jim looked up at him, through his lashes for a moment, and smiled fondly. Oswald’s emotions warred with each other - because this was all he ever wanted. New beginnings. Jim’s friendship, his respect. The Jim now, so happy to work alongside with him, so giving of his time, is the friend he’d always wanted. So of _course_ Oswald wants more. Of course he’s disappointed Jim hadn’t picked up on Oswald’s wishes and offered to attend with him - as a date. 

He _wanted._

_So much._

But he didn’t dare hope. 

Oswald thought wryly of his last love confession. Truth be told, the devastating (deadly, more like) experience hadn’t turned him off of finding love once more. No, if anything, his past failure only made Oswald more determined to succeed in love henceforth, to seize opportunity by the throat and plan the perfect strategy the next time he felt such affection, such a connection, again then with more wisdom and better able to discern whether such a love was true. 

Truth be told, he had even considered it not long after putting Ed in the ice - when the Falcone girl had come to visit his city, and at first played him so deftly. He briefly entertained prolonging their companionship, before realizing he was jumping at the first newcomer to cross his path having missed having someone like Ed around. In reality, Ed before everything had happened between them, had been like a glorified secretary, making his work as a mayor easy, and inventing diabolical punishment for him to mete out as king of the underworld though it rarely came to having to actually execute it

Neither of them had treated each other well.

But Jim - Jim was altogether an entirely different thing. Their fates had been tied to each other since the beginning. They needed each other in a way that was far more than just romance, even if Oswald had seen it long before Jim did. And what they had even now was more than Oswald had ever expected - and he wouldn’t risk it for the world. Their casual lunches, lingering dinners, Jim’s fond smiles and occasional hand over his. The slow walks afterwards, once all the way up to his doorstep. Oh how Jim had lingered, the way he gazed at him in the dim light, lashes dipping low with the suggestion of what they might be, what he could want, if they were different people. 

But no, they didn’t kiss, or hold hands, or have long conversations on the phone about weekend getaways and not being able to wait to see each other again. He might not have Jim in his bed, but he had him by his side as they worked together to rebuild the city they loved, and why wouldn’t that be enough?


	2. Chapter 2

Jim reached down to take himself in hand, cheeks flaming even though he was alone in the dark. He could barely even bring himself to imagine what he wanted, didn’t dare to bring his fantasies to life even in the confines of his imagination.

Oswald here was barely a whisper of the man, the press of his fine tailored suit a suggestion against Jim’s bare skin. 

He leaned in close, face obscured, but Jim could smell him, unmistakably him. He sped up, imaging Oswald’s hand instead, and his breath stuttered.

What would Oswald do? What would he say, if he saw how desperate and easy Jim was for him? Would he make him wait? Punish him? Delight in making him beg?

Oswald tucked his head beside Jim’s, lips hot against his ear. _You’re so good for me,_ he murmured, and Jim cried out.

He lay stunned and wide eyed a moment later. Or, an eternity later, suspended. Not knowing where that came from, what deep, dark layer of his psyche the Oswald of his fantasy dredged that up from.

Figured, the man would surprise him even in Jim's own imagination.

He caught a look at himself in the mirror after washing up, and ended up glancing away, rife with embarassment and a bit of guilt.

He and Oswald had been dating for a few weeks now, but they’d been taking things slow.

Glacially slow.

Snail paced.

But it was worth it, and Jim was doggedly determined not to mess this up. Despite the lack of - um - touching, sexual at least, Jim’s life has been almost idyllic. After all the chaos and ruin and rubble, it’s as if all the efforts of the good people of Gotham, his included, are coming to fruition. Bruce’s efforts to make Arkham the mental health facility his mother wished had played a large part, Jim believed, as well as, oddly enough, Oswald’s cooperation.

All his life, Jim has thought that 'when you know, you know,' and all he had to show for it was a string of broken relationships. On the contrary, he and Oswald have always had a _something,_ but it was a deep and terrifying thing, and he couldn’t see it going anywhere good. 

Now it’s different. Oswald’s always had a taste for the spotlight, and even Oswald must know how much more adulation he wins when he acts altruistically, rather than tries to take the reins of power for the purpose of flaunting it, as he’s more than once done. Jim has no illusions Penguin still has a hand on the criminal world of Gotham, but it’s largely business, and, more importantly, it’s largely kept in check.

Everyday citizens aren’t being terrorized every other week, and people believe in law and order once again. They have hope. Jim is finally seeing his work do something good for the city, real results and the GCPD restored, and he knows he hasn’t done that alone. Along the way, Penguin’s (and that moniker even _means_ something different to people than it did even six months ago) become a partner in this, in more than one way. Because it’s Oswald he thinks about when he unwinds, they share the same goals, and hell, he likes the guy. 

More than likes. 

He could admit now, that he’d always held some sort of deep seated attraction, and yes maybe it started out a bit violent and filthy sort of desire but it’s different now that he likes him, now that he wants to be _with_ him.

He knew they had a turbulent relationship for as long as they’d known each other, so he wanted to navigate what he had now with care.

Jim looked over at the engraved invitation that sat on his desk, claiming its corner by his in-tray, where he had looked at it every day the past month. How different it feels from that one Oswald had pressed insistently into his hand all those years ago, complete with a warning, a declaration of who he was going to be someday, and that what he knew about Jim could come back to haunt him.

It was difficult to trust Oswald back then.

It had been difficult for a very long time. 

He hadn’t known what moves Oswald would make next after citizens came pouring back into Gotham, but he counted it as a blessing when he ushered aside criminals left and right, nulling any remnants of “territories,” intent on restoring order so that he could rise to the top himself. 

So Jim kept an eye on him, even personally inviting him to his promotion ceremony, if only to see if this was going to end in yet another power grab with a disastrous fallout for everybody else. But then Penguin started investing where he normally wouldn’t invest, Jim wondering whether he had taken a page out of Sofia’s book by establishing the Gertrude Kapelput Center for Orphans of Gotham, and he was branching out. No good could come from Penguin establishing himself in society, people murmured, and Jim half agreed, making sure to keep apprised of all the meetings Penguin was attending, meeting him for coffee every now and then to remind him he wasn’t out of the picture. He had to wonder what the man’s endgame was when he started elbowing his way into disaster aid meetings and coming away with better deals the city’s public servants could have negotiated, what he was after when he started lobbying federal officials for all manners of things, before turning to other cities with his pretty rhetoric of extending a hand in friendship. 

What he saw instead, was that despite the fact that Oswald was clearly half doing it for the attention, basking happily in the spotlight as people cheered him on, he was doing real good, a lot of good, for the city. And his heart clenched with the idea of new beginnings and reconciliation, and he found himself asking Oswald out to dinner, awkward and ill rehearsed and as gentlemanly as he could manage, before they could part ways after a long and meandering walk they’d taken to leave a joint press conference.

Oswald stared at him like he’d grown a second head, and Jim was very glad he hadn’t stuck to his usual script, where he kissed first and quickly fell into a monogamous dating-with-the-intent-to-marry he was so used to, because that was the script he was used to, and everything about Oswald was off-script. And because he’s sure that, shocked as he was at the dinner invitation, if Jim had gone for the kiss instead he might’ve gotten shanked out of sheer surprise. 

To his immense relief - Oswald said yes. Was pleasant and even flirty through dinner, and hadn’t even made fun of him when he said, all stilted and cliche, they should do it again sometime. Which they did, at least weekly, on top of their more work related coffee meetings. And when he wasn’t having lunch meetings he was trying to spend them too with Oswald. 

He remembered blushing, sitting across from Oswald, as he realized he hadn’t been so happy in long enough that happiness itself was a revelation.

Jim had worried, on some level, he would be met with disgust. That Oswald would blame him for a host of things that had happened to him where Jim Gordon had played a part. That he had misread everything between the two of them and Oswald had no interest in him that way. Instead, they happily got to know each other over conversation at meals so long they’d been kicked out after closing more than once. Oswald shared stories about his mother and his short-lived reunion with his father, and Jim found himself telling Oswald more about his own fragile relationships with his family than he had ever voiced aloud. 

At the beginning, every time they parted ways, he worried he was merely living in a happy bubble that defied reality and he would go home and wake up to the news that Oswald had been behind some underhanded plan to - do something that was getting harder and harder to even imagine. They’d been weeks into the tentative courtship before he even realized he stopped imagining that, and instead walked Oswald to his door and lingered longer than was polite as he stared up at Jim with those pale bright eyes, and if not for the glimmer of hesitation Jim saw in them, Jim would have kissed him, and probably wouldn’t have stopped with kissing.

Jim looked in the mirror that evening, met himself in the eye squarely this time, in a new suit (a tailor Oswald recommended) and haircut, as he readied himself for the charity event, and resolved tonight would be the night. He’d stay long past everyone had left the event if he had to, if only to congratulate Oswald once again when they were alone, and then finally kiss him.

Setting foot inside the ballroom, Jim wondered if his resolve might falter - he would have to move up his timeline and kiss him right there, if Oswald got any more incandescent. 

So taken was Jim by him that he missed who Oswald was talking to until he got close enough to be within earshot. He supposed it spoke volumes of how much Oswald had done that he was even on good terms with Leslie Thompkins, who afforded him a smile that held just a little more mirth than wryness. 

But while Jim had spotted the two of them conversing , the two of them hadn’t seen him coming. At least, he guessed it was the only reason Oswald let slip that he had been playing Jim all along, after all.

“Please,” Jim hears Oswald tell Lee derisively, “I could _never_ date _Jim Gordon.”_

She topped it off with that bubbling laugh of hers that he used to love and Jim stood frozen in place, one foot in front of the other. Long enough that Lee caught sight of him, expression falling, alerting Oswald to turn around and widen his eyes almost comically as he stared at Jim in horror.

So he turned on his heel and left them.

Jim stayed, long enough to shake hands and show his face to everyone who might have expected him to be there, because this event wasn’t about him, it was about the city. He steered clear of Oswald, who didn’t seem to be making any effort to approach him or explain himself either. He trained his eyes on the back of the head in front of him as he gave his speech, replaying the events of the last few weeks in his head rather than listening to the words. What had he misread? What had he _missed?_ Or was Oswald just that good an actor? 

Jim left as soon as he could and still be polite, but not without meeting the pitying look Lee gave him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alternatively titled: just kiss him already


	3. Chapter 3

Seeing Jim’s face that moment he turned around had been humiliating.

Oswald had invited Dr. Thompkins, of course, as she was doing significant work to help rebuild the children’s wing of the city’s main hospital. Truth be told, he’d never given much thought to the woman who called him a psychopath, beside the fact that she was probably generally attractive and clever enough to have snatched Jim up the moment he was single and banished to work as a security guard in Arkham.

But then she’d come up to him, all bygones-be-bygones and tall and self assured, and said that she always thought there was something about Oswald and Jim, only she never really believed that Jim would go for it. And now here they were, dating. She asked whether he was trying for Gotham’s top power couple, this time around.

Oswald laughed, high and nervous and utterly offended, and he had deflected, self-deprecating, because he of all people could  _ never _ date Jim Gordon. Jim had a type and everyone knew all too well that was, and even that was beside the point because Oswald truly did cherish the tenuous forgiveness he had been afforded and was suffocating with self-restraint to not push for more, to not throw himself at the man and ruin the dear friendship had now. He could never date Jim Gordon.

But as soon as the words left his mouth, he saw Leslie Thompkins purse her lips, eyes on something to his right, and Oswald turned to see the man himself staring at Oswald with an unreadable expression. He stammered for an excuse that wouldn’t come, and anyway Jim had been disgusted enough that he turned on his heel to leave without a word and go on to greet the other guests. Oswald could only thank his lucky stars the man didn’t corner him for an explanation, and he was left to carry his humiliation alone as the party went on.

At the time, it had been a relief to avoid Jim. It was a relief the next day as well, where Oswald threw himself into work and bolted himself up in his office, too anxious to deal with correspondence but waiting for it to come all the same. It didn’t.

By the second day, Oswald was drowning in impatience for some resolution, decided he would go down to the Commissioner’s office himself and hash it out if he had to. Remembered almost immediately that that would not yield the results he wished. So he went about his usual duties instead, hoping fervently that Jim would find him, and he would pretend that nothing happened, and Oswald could go on soaking up his presence and time as he had been, indefinitely.

By the third day he was in agony. Lunchtime came and went and it was radio silence from Jim. The man he’d sent to stake out the cafe they’d meet at for tea reported no sightings of Jim Gordon.

Oswald spent a long time sitting in front of the fire alone that night, nursing a drink, unable to do anything but be maudlin. 

He was heartbroken.

And this time he hadn’t even had a chance. 

He hadn’t even realized this might be a possible outcome, with the careful distance he kept, but he had let Jim become so big a fixture in his life that his sudden absense was a yawning vacuum that would threaten to suck out everything else that was happy and good in his life.

He sat there in that chair a long time that night, until the dark windows started to lighten with the approaching dawn, and Oswald made up his mind. 

He would just have to accept it, and go on alone. He would steel his heart, learn to live without Jim’s closeness, and be done with it.

His resolve lasted all of a day, because Oswald is on his way out of his last late afternoon meeting the next day when he gets news that Jim Gordon was stabbed.

He froze on the steps of the buildng, blood running cold, as he listened to the news. Some nobody, a complete nobody, had lost a relative in Haven over a year ago, while he himself had been safely off the island. Cowardice and an unwillingness to face his own guilt and grief made Jim out into the symbol of all those wrongs, and he declared he held Jim responsible for the loss of those lives, that he’d seen the photos of Jim at the party just days before and he wasn’t fit to be honored after all the horrible things he’d done, all the responsibility he shirked. He came at the commissioner with a knife, and Jim had been sent to the hospital.

Oswald had half a mind to put the man through a wood chipper - but at the moment he had more pressing matters. He beat the back of the driver’s seat with his cane, demanding he get to the hospital faster! Oh if he lost Jim - if he got there too late to  _ tell him- _

Still on his way, Oswald was intercepted with news that Jim Gordon was not in fact in the hospital, and had already gone home.

“What??!” Oswald yelled into the phone, slamming it closed without further conversation and demanding his driver to make an illegal U-turn and get him to Jim’s. His foreboding sense of loss was quickly replaced by blatant worry for Jim and his state of mind.

Of course the assailant would guilt-trip Jim, and Jim would have let it get to him too. Made that kicked puppy face of his as he listened on and blamed himself for whatever he was being accused of. Stupid! This was why Oswald had stepped up to help rebuild the city, not just physically but in image, partially to shield Jim from the worst of it. And now he’d gone for three days and the man had landed himself in the hospital!

Any awkwardness or humiliation took backseat to seeing for himself the state of Jim’s well-being, and he knocked furiously at the door until he heard it unlatch from the inside.

“Jim!” 

Oswald looked up to see Jim’s face, a strange mix of expressions playing across his beautiful features. Hope, confusion, anger, before settling on some sort of resignation as he watched Oswald push himsef into Jim’s apartment.

He’d divested himself of his suit jacket already, and Oswald busied himself patting down his torso, seeing no wound or patches. It takes a moment before he realizes that the wound is on Jim’s hand, and it is a small one at that. Just a single bandage, for a cut that be a bit of a hindrance but not much more than what an inexperienced and clumsy cook might inflict on himself.

Oswald fell silent at that, cheeks turning pink, but unrepentant about his worry. If anyone deserved his worry, it was Jim.

And then, instead of turning Oswald away now that he had done his inspection, Jim took Oswald’s hands, which had fallen to his sides, and placed them back on himself. It was as if time slowed, and Jim’s own hands traveled up, from Oswald’s hands to his arms, to gently cup his face as he tilted Oswald’s head up - leant in himself - and kissed him.

And,  _ oh, _ was it a kiss. Toe-curling and soul warming and Oswald committed every milisecond of the moment to memory. Jim’s thumb carressing his cheekbone. The press of the bandaged palm on his other cheek. The soft press of Jim’s lips, the bottom one just slightly chapped. His tongue, hot and wet, across Oswald’s own bottom lip. 

Oswald  _ squeezed, _ a reflex driven by the need to  _ hold onto Jim and never let go. _ He didn’t know what he had done to win him such a thing, but Oswald wouldn’t question such a blessing. If he had Jim now, he was  _ never letting go. _

It was the squeeze that did it though - Jim broke the kiss and only then had Oswald realized he’d sunk his nails into Jim’s shoulders, causing the man to wince and pull back. 

He stared at Jim, took in the heavy gaze and red, glistening lips, and his brain short circuited - or at least that was his excuse - and blurted out,

“I love you!” Oswald said, before gasping and nearly clapping his hands over his mouth. Jim studied him for a short moment, before smiling, all satisfied-like, and pulling Oswald close, so close, flush against his own body.

“Good,” Jim said, tilting down to quickly kiss him on the nose. “Because I love you too. There. So no more pretending we’re not a couple in front of my exes. We’re all adults here.”

Oswald heard words like  _ couple _ and  _ exes _ and  _ adults _ , but he wasn’t sure whether he was fully registering them because Jim’s reasoning made very little sense, but who was he to argue? He had his hands in Jim’s hair - he’s wanted to mess up Jim’s hair for so long, and Jim was leading in an uncoordinated backwards stumble toward what must have been Jim’s bedroom, and Oswald wouldn’t trade this for the world.

.

The next morning was sweeter than any Oswald had known, and Jim was more than pleased himself to wake and find Oswald curled against his side, hands cradling Jim’s own to his chest. 

He took the opportunity to play with Oswald’s hair, which looked more like a bird’s nest than ever. Jim had been curious about how it would feel, and frankly opted to lavish his attention on other parts of the man beside him the night before. 

They’d fallen into bed, still half dressed and frantic with need. There hadn’t been much rationale left for strategy, the two of them unwilling to part long enough for anything, all mouths and hands, and Oswald grinding against his thigh had been so hot he nearly came before he’d even touched him; when Oswald finally palmed at his cock through the fabric, it honestly hadn’t taken much. 

They’d traded sleepy kisses later, and must have dozed for a bit, but then Oswald was staring at him with bright, glittering eyes, so full of affection, as if Jim was everything he’d ever wanted, and any poorly planned talk Jim might have tried to muster up was long forgotten as he rolled them over and this time carefully divested Oswald of his clothing - the many layers both a nuisance and thrillingly similar to unwrapping a present - and took his sweet time getting to know his body. 

And oh, the  _ noises  _ Oswald could make. 

The breathy moans and little gasps as he quivered in anticipation, Jim’s name on his lips uttered in more tones than he knew possible, the absolute primal shouts and groans when he really - really - got Oswald going.

Jim liked to think he was the reason Oswald looked positively glowing as he blinked awake, even dazed and sleepy and with his hair (and, well, his neck) a mess, despite his face being a bit smushed and that he'd drooled a little in his sleep.

Oswald stared at him for a long moment, lips quivering with the effort to hold back a too-wide smile and failing when Jim returned with a crooked grin of his own, brushing his finger across his cheek.

“Hey,” Jim said, and Oswald felt himself at a complete loss for words, the words that had come so easily to him all his life.

“Guess I owe you dinner, huh?” he joked too giddy, too eagerly, instead, but Jim must've been in a good mood because instead of frowning or confusion at his silliness, he threw his head back with a laugh.

Oswald reckoned that had to be the most beautiful sound in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean I *guess* Oswald’s never dated and his last “”relationship”” consisted of moving in together from day 1 without establishing anything……...and Jim’s move is kiss first questions later, so……...there we go……….
> 
> (also, now that Oswald’s aware you can be sure he’ll be telling *everyone* that His Boyfriend Is Jim Gordon; and Have You Met My Boyfriend, Jim Gordon, the Police Commissioner)

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna do this the other way around with Jim being the oblivious one but this just HAPPENED


End file.
